He looked from Samantha to Issa, and then back to Samantha.
“This makes sense, and you both know it. I’ll go and take care of Pike and return when it’s done.”
“And if you don’t come back?” asked Samantha.
“Then you’ll come in and rescue me. Same as always.”
She mumbled something about him being unfair, but her heart really wasn’t in it.
“We’re in agreement then?” he said.
Issa and Samantha looked at one another, then without so much as a nod, returned to what they were doing.
Tanner let out a quiet breath, thankful that it hadn’t been any worse.
Signs on the tunnel walls counted down the distance to Mount Weather in ten-mile increments, 30 miles… 20 miles… 10 miles. As they got closer, the countdown changed to individual mile markers. And when they were about a half-mile out, Tanner had Samantha bring the train to a stop.
“Are you sure about this?”
“I’m sure that we’re not going to surprise anyone rolling in on a train.”
Korn stepped into the driver’s car. When he spoke, his voice was deep, and he sounded a bit like an Indian chief.
“What plan?”
Tanner said, “A couple of us will go ahead to see what’s what. The rest will stay behind until we figure out a way to get the gate open.”
Korn nodded. “I go.”
“I thought you might.” Tanner turned to Samantha and Issa. “I’ll be back when it’s done.”
Both of them glared at him.
Doing his best to ignore their scowls, Tanner dug through his pack for spare ammunition and a flashlight. As he stood up, he slung the satchel of explosives over his shoulder.
“I’ll leave the rest of the supplies with you, Sam.”
“In case you die?”
“I wouldn’t have said it quite that way, but yeah.”
She came over and wrapped her arms around his waist.
“Don’t die.”
He kissed the top of her head.
“Not planning on it.”
When Samantha pulled away, Issa came over and embraced him. She put her mouth close to his ear.
“Come back to me.”
It was at that moment that Tanner realized two things. The first was that Samantha had been right. Issa was absolutely committed to their newfound relationship. Whether that devotion was a byproduct of her subterranean culture or something more from the heart, he couldn’t say. All he knew for certain was that she now considered them to be connected in every sense of the word. The second thing he realized was that, despite her physical mutations, he was incredibly drawn to her, both physically and emotionally. It wasn’t logical, and perhaps even a little perverse, but that made it no less true.
“Keep Sam safe while I’m gone.”
“On my life.”
Tanner turned to Korn. To his surprise, the big man didn’t seem at all put off by Issa’s open affection. If anything, there was a look of satisfaction in his eyes.
He nodded to Tanner.
“We go.”
Without the train’s headlights, the tunnel was as dark as the depths of deep space. Even so, Korn seemed to have little trouble seeing the lanes ahead of him. Tanner’s pupils, too, had adapted to bring in small amounts of infrared energy, giving the area a faint glow that enabled him to sufficiently navigate without tripping over his own feet.
A few hundred yards into the tunnel, they came across the site of a small explosion. The walls remained intact, but the severed tracks were twisted up in the air like shiny metal ingots. The driving lanes to either side had also buckled, leaving uneven chunks of wet asphalt. Large metal pipes hung down from a hidden shroud in the ceiling, water dripping from their ends.
“This was intentional,” said Tanner. “They wanted to make sure vehicles couldn’t get through.”
Korn grunted as he stepped over the debris and continued ahead.
Tanner took a moment longer to study the pipes and then followed.
It wasn’t long before they detected the glint of light reflecting off the tunnel walls. The source appeared to be from around the next bend. Tanner tapped Korn on the shoulder and indicated that they should be especially quiet. The big man nodded and began to place his steps more carefully.
Together they inched along the inside wall. Having been designed for a train, the bend was very gradual, and it wasn’t until they passed the steepest point of the curve that they established a clear line of sight to what lay beyond.
A barricade had been built using a framework of heavy steel slats, all interwoven into a wall anchored to both the floor and ceiling. A gate as sturdy as any medieval portcullis was positioned at its center. Behind the metal framework were stacks of sandbags, leaving only enough space for the gate to swing inward.
The barrels of four M60 machine guns poked out from between the bags. To illuminate the tunnel, two powerful floodlights had been set up in opposite corners, and both of them burned brightly. The most unusual item, however, was a large diaphragm roughly the size and shape of a stop sign, sitting atop a tripod and pointing out toward the tunnel.
Korn pointed at the diaphragm and whispered, “Noisemaker.”
Tanner had never seen an acoustic weapon in person before, but thanks to the History Channel, he knew a bit about them. Long-range acoustic devices, or LRADs for short, generated low-frequency sound waves that could be directed as narrow beams. Used primarily for crowd control, they could cause hearing loss, introduce nausea and vomiting, and even result in death. With a range of several hundred meters, it was the ideal weapon to disable a horde of infected who were armed only with melee weapons. Even if the noisemaker didn’t kill them, it would leave them writhing on the ground to be shot at the soldiers’ leisure.
Tanner studied the setup for several minutes, hoping to determine how many soldiers were manning the fortification. The floodlights made it difficult, not to mention a bit painful on the eyes. Best guess was between six and ten. Easy enough to take out if they were on this side of the gate, but nearly impossible in their current position.
Tanner and Korn retreated back around the curve. They walked in silence for several minutes, finally arriving back at the water pipes hanging down from the ceiling.
Korn motioned in the direction of the barricade.
“How?”
Tanner’s first thought had been that perhaps they could ram the train into the gate. The small explosion on the tracks, however, made that impossible. He shifted the satchel of C4 around to his front. Surely, the answer lay with the explosives. The C4 had enough umph to take out the barricade if properly placed. The problem was that someone would have to get close enough to place it on the gate. With the LRAD, machine guns, and flood lights, that task seemed more like mass suicide than part of any real plan.
He stared up at the broken water pipes, and a smile slowly came to his lips.
“I believe it was Einstein who said, ‘Coincidence is God’s way of remaining anonymous.’”
Korn squinted and tilted his head.
“You’re right. Maybe it was Billy Joel. Either way, help me get these pipes down. I think I’ve found our weapon.”
As Samantha, Issa, and Korn looked on, Tanner tilted the three-foot length of pipe onto its end to let the last bit of water drip out. One end of the heavy tube had been fitted with a metal cap, and the other had been left open.
“Let me get this right,” Samantha said, making no attempt to hide her misgivings. “You’re going to build a cannon?”
“That’s right.”
“Have you ever actually built a cannon before?”
“Not per se.”
“In other words, no.”
“Really, how hard—”
She raised her hands. “Don’t even say it.”
He chuckled. “If you think about it, a cannon’s just a pipe. And what do you know? Here’s a pipe!”
“And I suppose you’re planning to use a human he
ad as a cannon ball?”
He furrowed his brow. “You’re so dark sometimes.”
“I was joking!” She hesitated. “So, you’re not, right?”
“Of course, not. I’m going to use that.” Tanner pointed to a steel platter that Korn had carried back. It looked like a manhole cover, only smaller.
“You’re going to shoot a giant metal Frisbee at the enemy?”
He bent down and hefted the platter a few inches off the ground to check its weight. Twenty pounds, easy.
“This platter was used as part of a switching valve, which means it’ll fit nice and snug into the pipe.” He tipped the pipe over and tilted the platter on end to prove his point. And he was right. The platter was nearly a perfect fit, leaving less than a sixteenth of an inch gap around the inside of the pipe.
Korn grunted something to Issa. Tanner found it interesting that despite her protests about him trying to claim her, the two showed no animosity toward one another. The matter had apparently been settled, and both were willing to accept the outcome.
“He wants to know if you have enough explosives to blow open the gate.”
“We have five bricks of C4, but we’ll want to save a couple in case we have to breach a door inside the compound.”
“Do you think three will be enough?”
“I do if we can hit the door.”
“Even if you manage to blow it open,” said Samantha, “how do you plan to get by the noisemaker and machine guns?”
“That, darlin’, is the second part of my brilliant plan.”
She scoffed, but it was a friendly jeer. It was clear that she was playing her part as devil’s advocate, but that didn’t mean that she thought the idea was completely without merit.
“I’m waiting.”
“We’re going to make a shield.”
Samantha mulled the idea over.
“Out of what, exactly?”
He pointed at the train. “Out of that.” Tanner turned at Korn. “Can your people get a couple of the side panels off? We found some tools in the back of the train, if you think they’d help.”
Korn nodded. “Yes. Shield.”
“Are you sure the shield will stop the noise?” asked Issa.
“If we’re lucky, it’ll do better than that.”
“I get it,” said Samantha. “You think the panels might reflect the sound back at the soldiers, like a mirror reflects light.”
“Exactly. And if it does, that should give us a chance to rush through the open gate and make a mess of things.”
Korn smiled, showing off his pointy yellow teeth.
“Yes. We make mess.”
Creeping up on an enemy with seven hundred infected soldiers, all of whom seemed unable to stop coughing, sniffling, or farting, was no small trick. As they came to the final bend, Korn had a group of his strongest men hurry forward, carrying the two makeshift shields. The stainless steel panels were each twelve feet long and eight feet high but likely not thick enough to stop a 7.62 mm bullet. Replacements lined up behind the shield carriers, ready to take over should they be killed by machine gun fire.
Tanner stood in a narrow gap between the shields, carrying his homemade cannon. Korn came forward and lifted the platter in place. The fit was tight enough that he had to tap it down into the pipe with his palm. When it was recessed about sixteen inches, several of his soldiers dumped in handfuls of nuts and bolts collected during their removal of the train’s panels. The idea was to use the hardware as grapeshot, hopefully taking out a few of the soldiers or, even better, some of their weapons.
Once they were finished, Tanner unscrewed the endcap and carefully molded three blocks of C4 onto the back of the platter. When he was finished, he inserted the blasting cap into the center of the explosives and routed the electrical wire out through a small hole they had perforated in the end cap. Finally, he connected the wire to the terminals on the blasting machine and gripped it loosely in his hand.
The cannon was locked and loaded. Whether or not it would work was anyone’s guess.
He looked over at Korn. “They may already know we’re here, so we’ll have to move fast.”
The big man nodded. “You shoot. We charge.”
Tanner started a simple countdown on his fingers. When he got to three, they rushed around the bend.
The sudden appearance of two giant metal barriers charging down the tunnel caused quite a bit of confusion. Soldiers shouted to one another as they scrambled to get behind weapons. Dropping to one knee, Tanner braced the pipe and squeezed the handle on the igniter. It compressed with a slight whoosh, but nothing happened. He squeezed it again. Another whoosh, but still no explosion. It felt as if he were spinning up a motor, and it occurred to him that maybe all that was needed was to get it up to speed. He squeezed the handle several times in rapid succession, and sure enough, on the third squeeze, the C4 detonated.
As the platter and bolts shot from the front of the pipe, the entire cannon kicked backward. If not for Tanner’s considerable size and strength, the heavy pipe would have toppled him end over end. As it was, the explosion left him sitting flat on his butt, holding the pipe in his lap with his ears playing an off-key rendition of “The Star-Spangled Banner.”
Despite the incredible recoil, luck was on their side, and the platter hit the gate nearly dead center, blowing open the metal barrier. The grapeshot, too, found several soft targets, as evidenced by the sound of soldiers screaming in agony.
“Go!” Tanner shouted, struggling to get free of the cannon.
But his orders weren’t necessary. Korn and his men were already rushing forward with their shields extended like Roman legionnaires bearing scutums. A soldier darted out from behind a sandbag and threw a heavy switch, powering on the acoustic weapon. What happened next was a surprise to everyone. Incredible low-frequency sound waves reverberated all throughout the tunnel, causing terrible pain to infected and soldier alike. Everyone began to scream at once, many cupping their ears, some even collapsing to the floor. To Korn’s credit, he and his men continued the charge. Those that fell away in agony were replaced by others, and within seconds, they were pushing their way through the open gate.
It took only a moment for the LRAD to be disabled and the handful of soldiers remaining to be killed. Not even a single infected man or woman was lost in the assault, a feat that Tanner thought was probably worthy of recording in some military history book. Once the area was clear, Korn and his army pushed their way through an oversized hatch that led into the belly of the compound.
Mount Weather had been breached.
Tanner planted his feet and let the army of infected rush past. This was their fight, not his. And if his newfound blistered friends happened to get to Pike before him, so much the better. Only after the last man disappeared did he finally advance, stepping through the hatch with his shotgun at waist level. A dark corridor lay ahead, at the end of which was a set of metal stairs leading upward. The sounds of screams rang out from above. On the right battlefield, properly equipped soldiers would have had little trouble repelling such a primitive attack. Unfortunately for them, this was not that battlefield.
Tanner carefully climbed the stairs. A hallway went left and right, bloody bodies littering the passages. He turned right, passing a handful of open rooms to arrive at another staircase, also leading up. He proceeded slowly up the stairs, ready to let loose on anyone in uniform. They were his enemy. Not by choice perhaps, but such reflections were best considered while clutching a bottle of whiskey, and only after the fighting had been done.
At the top of the stairs were living quarters, as well as a few small meeting rooms. A maze of hallways stretched for hundreds of feet in every direction. He caught glimpses of the infected darting between rooms, ripping apart any who still remained. Their rage was burning hot, and no one, not even Korn, could control them.
Tanner walked down one of the long corridors, calling for President Pike.
No one answered.
He continued on, taking several turns as he made his way deeper into the compound. The rooms became larger, and the quarters a bit more plush. He passed a control room, the computer monitors bashed in and the chairs overturned. Bodies of technicians lay sprawled across the consoles. No one would be spared in the culling. Of that, Tanner was sure.
At the opposite end of the hallway were the bodies of several men in dark suits, Secret Service by the look of them. A dozen of the infected also lay dead, and Tanner found himself oddly relieved that Korn was not among them. He stepped over the bodies and proceeded into the adjacent office. The desk and lamps had been overturned, and more bodies lay strewn about. None of them appeared to be President Pike.
“Mr. President,” he said in a loud voice, “are you in here?”
To his surprise, there came a muffled reply, followed almost immediately by the door to a small cabinet swinging open. A handsome man with graying hair crawled out.
“Thank God!” breathed Pike. “Give me a hand, will you?”
Tanner reached down and helped him to his feet.
When Pike saw his shiny black eyes, he recoiled.
“You’re one of them!”
“No,” Tanner said with a quick shake of his head. “I did this to myself so they wouldn’t attack me.”
“But how?”
“It’s not important.”
“Who are you?”
“Tanner Raines.” For some reason, Tanner thought it important that he know his name. “Are you President Lincoln Pike?” He had only seen Pike’s image on the television a few times and wasn’t absolutely certain that he had found his man.
Pike stood up and straightened his suit.
“I most certainly am.” He looked past Tanner. “You’ve got to get me out of here. Those monsters are overrunning the entire center.”
Tanner knew what had to be done, but he hesitated. Murdering someone in cold blood weighed on a man’s soul, even one as weathered as his.
“I’m afraid that’s not why I’m here.”
“You have a duty to protect me. I’m the President, for God’s sake.”
Last Stand (The Survivalist Book 7) Page 24
